The three days had passed monotonously. Egon and Franziska avoided each other, and only met at meals and tea-time. In the hours that used to be filled with lively chat, there was now silence, as if the two had nothing to say to each other. Judith paid no attention to this on the first day, but on the second day, she noticed it, and on the third she remarked on it openly, so that Egon and Franziska changed tack again and struck up a conversation that was lively, witty, and seemingly just as before. But no one laughed. The words they exchanged were devoid of all spontaneity.

Early on the fourth day a telegram arrived from Gruz, in which the count announced that he’d arrive, not that morning as planned, but late in the evening.

They passed the piece of paper from hand to hand, with no one commenting. But then Franziska withdrew to her room and when she was upstairs in her room, she gazed into the flames burning cheerfully in the hearth. Hannah emerged from the adjacent room to add another log, but really because she saw that her mistress and friend was troubled and wanted to talk.

“Sit down on the cushion here,” Franziska said after a while. “There; good. And now stay here and tell me something nice, something kind, and something to comfort me. I need it so badly. I’m longing for Vienna, for society and people, and I only wish we were gone from here.”